With One Eye Open
by Tergon
Summary: A chat between enemies brings a little perspective from opposite sides of the coin.


_Disclaimer:__ This is a work of fanfiction, from which I make no profit. If I was getting paid to write it, it'd be canon. Since I'm not getting paid, all standard disclaimers apply._

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Scott groaned, shaking his head as he slowly swam back into consciousness. At first he was only aware of a few basic things – his hands fastened behind his back, the intense discomfort of his position, the throbbing in the back of his skull, and the cold that was seeping into his bones. Then, as greater awareness came back to him, a voice spoke up.

"Morning, sunshine. Glad you decided to join the party."

Scott cracked an eye, noting at the same time that he was apparently wearing his visor. "Lance?"

"The one and only." In the dim light of whatever room they were in, Scott couldn't see much, but what he could see was that Lance was sitting with his back to the wall, his hands secured like Scott's, and what appeared to be a dried bloodstain running from his forehead down his face.

"Welcome to our little nightmare," Lance said.

Sitting up, Scott shook his head to clear it. "Where…"

"A plane," Lance informed him. "Where, I don't know. Or where we're going. I'm guessing not Disney World."

Scott tugged at his restraints. "How did we get here? I remember we ran into you, and Toad and Kurt almost started a fight, but then…"

"You don't remember?" Lance raised an eyebrow. "Not surprising. You got hit first."

"By who?" Scott demanded.

"Hell if I know. Military guys. Lots of big guns, obviously a plan… they knew who we were and they were looking to catch us."

"And the others?"

Lance shrugged. "When the guys with guns sprung us, everyone scattered. I think most of 'em got away… I know a few did, anyway. Nobody can catch Pietro or Todd, and when Fred decides he's leaving someplace there's not much that can stop him. Same for your guys."

Scott nodded, instantly regretting it for the pain in his head. "What about us?"

"You went down first. They jumped out, one of 'em hit you in the back of the head with his gun. Your buddies tried to grab you, but everyone had to get out of the way when the soldiers started shooting." Lance looked disgusted and gestured to the wound on his forehead. "Me, I was dumb enough to try and help you even when the bullets started flying. Almost got you out until one of 'em snuck up on me, and look where it got me."

"Great."

"Yeah, don't mention it."

Scott hung his head. "Alright, alright, sorry. Thanks for trying, I guess."

Lance snorted. "Your sincerity makes it all worthwhile," he deadpanned. "And for what it's worth, if I could do it again, believe me when I say I'd have left you there."

"Well, at least we're back in familiar territory," Scott shot back. "So now what do we do?"

"Well, gee," Lance drawled. "I was thinking you and me could sit here and chat until we became bestest buddies in the whole wide world. Aside from that, if you have any ideas, I'd just love to hear 'em."

Sighing, Scott looked around. "Look, I'm not trying to be an asshole here. It's just that if I was going to list the people who might risk their lives to save me, you wouldn't be high on the list."

Lance laughed bitterly. "And why is that, Summers? 'Cause I'm the bad guy, and you're the good guy, and never the two shall meet?"

"Your words. Not mine."

"It doesn't matter whose words they are," Lance informed him, "they're still full of shit."

Scott raised an eyebrow. "You don't see yourself as the bad guy?"

"Nobody sees themselves as the bad guy, moron. Evil's a point of view, and nobody actually tries to be evil. They just have different ideas of what's good."

"Is that a fact?"

"Yeah, it is," Lance said. "The difference here is that you think you're good and I'm evil. I think I'm good, but I never said you were evil."

"Then what do you call me?" Scott wanted to know. "Un-good?"

"No. I'd call you misguided."

"You…" Scott shook his head in disbelief. "Look, is this really the time and place for a discussion of morals?"

Lance cast an expressive look around their prison and rattled his handcuffs. "Oh, I'm sorry. Would you rather talk about the weather?"

"I'd rather talk about a way of getting out of here."

"Summers, we're handcuffed and locked in a cell. Which is on board a plane. Which is in the air and full of armed guards. And yes, there are power dampers on, because if I could use my powers I'd have brought this damn plane down by now. So if you can think of a way out of here, please, share it."

Scott didn't bother to answer, just sitting back in disgust. For a few minutes, silence reigned. Then he shook his head.

"Misguided?"

Lance looked up. "What?"

"You think I'm misguided?"

Lance smiled bitterly. "Amongst other things, sure."

"How?"

He shrugged. "Isn't it obvious? I mean, you're basically Xavier's poster boy. He gives you orders, you follow, end of story. The man could tell you shit was sherbet and you'd believe him."

Scott snorted. "Oh, and like you're any better with Magneto."

"Considering how long it's been since he even gave us an order to follow? Yeah, I'd say we are."

"At least the Professor isn't trying to kill people…"

Lance looked startled. "Trying to… what?" He struggled into a more upright position. "Summers, what the merry fuck are you talking about?"

Scott glared at him. "I'm talking about your employer's kill-all-humans policy. Or does he have a bunch of those, and you're not sure what one I'm talking about?"

"Apparently he does," Lance snapped. "Because I never heard anything about him wanting to kill anyone. Where the hell did you pull that one from?"

"The whole war on humanity thing that he's always going on about, for starters," Scott shot back.

"Dude, Magneto wants to survive a war against humanity, not start one. He wants mutants to be alive in ten years, that's it."

"Oh, sure," Scott sarcasmed.

Lance glared at him. "Look, there's what, one mutant to every half a million norms? You kill all the humans, put Magneto in charge of what's left, and he's king of about twelve people. Woo-freakin'-hoo." He shook his head. "Magneto doesn't want to kill anyone. He wants to stop people from getting killed."

"Right, which is why he's blown up the Institute all those times…"

"Hey, it was you guys who started that little contest," Lance pointed out. "And you've blown up his house more times than he's blown up yours."

"Whatever." Scott looked away. "And I am not a poster boy."

"My ass you're not," Lance accused him. "Mister freakin' perfect, classic good looks driving your shiny red car with Jean hanging off your arm, acing school, popular as hell, captain of your own team of superheroes…" he shook his head. "It's sickening is what it is."

"Stop it, I'm blushing," Scott deadpanned. "So you're jealous, is that it? Look, I'm with the Professor because I chose it. You had a chance to sign up, if I remember, and you turned it down."

"Yeah, because you guys made me feel so damn welcome," Lance growled. "Like a nun at a death metal concert. Don't pretend for a second that I was welcome at the Institute, Summers. Xavier spat out just enough bullshit to let me in on a technicality, but if you try and act like anyone, him included, wanted me there? You're insulting both of us."

"Yeah, well if you hadn't been our enemy for the last couple of years it might have been different," Scott retorted.

"Xavier rejected me before I even heard of the Brotherhood," Lance said darkly. "I didn't make you guys my enemies. Xavier did that for both of us."

"Whatever." Scott shook his head, and the small room remained silent for a short while. Then he cocked his head to the side. "We're losing altitude."

Lance nodded. "Yeah, I felt it too. Must be nearly there… wherever 'there' is."

"Think they'll let us see where we are?"

Abruptly, a set of ventilators in the ceiling sprang open, releasing clouds of white vapour into the makeshift holding cell.

"Doesn't look like it," Lance said, looking up at the ventilators. "In fact it looks like we're just about screwed."

"Great." Scott coughed, feeling the cold mist in his throat. "See you later, then."

"Maybe."

Whatever the gas was, it was fast-acting; Scott tried to make a further reply to Lance, but before he could manage it, everything faded to black.

----------

Lance groaned, shaking his head as he slowly swam back into consciousness. At first he was only aware of a few basic things – the throbbing in his wrists where the now-removed handcuffs had cut into him, the sour taste of the gas in the back of his throat, and the cold that was seeping into his bones. Then, as greater awareness came back to him, a voice spoke up.

"I was wondering when you'd wake up."

Cracking an eyebrow, Lance looked up. Scott was looking despondently at him from his position near a wall of bars.

"Fuck," Lance managed. "Wasn't a dream."

"Afraid not," Scott agreed. "They stuck us in here together."

"Damn it." Lance struggled to his feet, steadying himself against the wall. "They didn't have any empty rooms?"

"Actually…" Scott gestured through the bars. "There's at least three other cells in this area, and I don't think any of them have people inside. So yeah, we could have had separate rooms, but apparently someone decided against it."

"Great." Looking around, Lance grimaced. "Any ideas on who 'they' are?"

"None. All I know is we're underground somewhere. I woke up in the elevator as we came down and played possum until they left us here. That was about five, maybe ten minutes ago."

"Wonderful." Lance stumbled over to a bunk bed attached to the wall and sat on the lower one. "So, we're fucked, then."

"Pretty much," Scott agreed.

"Any ideas?"

Scott laughed bitterly. "Want to talk about the weather?"

"No point, we can't see the sky." Lance closed his eyes, gently feeling the wound on his head. "And it doesn't look like we're going to anytime soon, either."

Scott turned and sank to the floor, leaning his back against the wall opposite Lance. "Point."

Silence reigned for several minutes before Scott stirred again. "Lance?"

"Yeah?"

"I was thinking…"

Lance shook his head. "Sorry, we haven't been cellmates that long. I still like girls. Try again in a couple hours, okay?"

Scott smiled ruefully. "No, I mean, about what you were saying earlier…" he cleared his throat. "Magneto, man. How do you… I mean, how can you see him as the good guy?" he shook his head. "I just can't figure it out."

Lance stared at Scott for a long moment. "You're serious," he finally said.

"Well, yeah," Scott said. "It's just… how can you do it?"

A look of disbelief came over Lance's face. "Are you really this naïve?" he asked. "Christ, I knew you weren't that open-minded, but this is just ridiculous."

"It's a valid question," Scott argued. Lance shook his head.

"No, it's not, and the fact that you think it is pretty much sums up why we're not on the same team," he shot back. "You're that much Xavier's disciple that you can't even imagine someone not seeing him as the Lord almighty saviour of mutantkind. You wanna know why I actually believe in Magneto? That's one reason right there, Summers."

Scott simply shrugged. "And what are the others?"

Lance was quiet for a long moment. Then he sighed. "Well, since you asked…" he rubbed at the side of his neck. "Summers, you know what your problem is? You don't know what it's like to fail. To lose. You have no idea what it's like."

Scott opened his mouth to protest; Lance held up one hand. "Look, I know you're going to give me a bunch of examples to argue the point, but I'm not talking about the small stuff like tests in school or not getting a date. I mean, you've never had the world really shit down on you, you know? You've never really known what it's like to be on the bottom."

"Oh, sure," Scott snapped. "And my parents dying in a plane crash, thinking I was some kind of monster when I manifested, the orphanage, those were just real high points in my life."

"No," Lance said calmly, "those were tragedies. Trust me, man, I know. You're not the only orphan in the room, remember? Everything shit that's ever happened to you, I guarantee, it happened to me. Except that the good fairy didn't come along and send me off to a generous billionaire who wanted to take me under his wing and turn me into a hero, so I had to sit there on the bottom of the pile and try to survive on my own." He shook his head bitterly. "You think your life was tough, Summers? You've got no idea."

Scott opened and closed his mouth, trying to think of a retort. Lance just went on in the same calm, quiet voice. "I just had to put up with everything. Had no choice. Until one day, I met Kitty." He smiled wistfully. "She ever tell you about that, Summers? She was just scared of what she was, full-on denial. Me, I was just happy… I found someone who was like me. For the first time in my life, I wasn't completely alone. And I talked to her, made friends with her… for God's sake, I was the one who talked her into really using her powers and liking it for the first time."

Scott snorted. "Yeah, to rob a school…"

"I'm what the world made me," Lance said simply. "Never claimed otherwise. Yeah, I was asking her to do the wrong thing, but it was for the right reasons. And right at that moment, Summers, it was working for me – I finally found someone. Someone who gave a damn about me, accepted me, maybe even liked me and understood something about me that nobody else ever could." He paused. "And then Xavier came up and took her away. Off to the Institute, to a new life of privilege and comfort that I wasn't allowed to have. The world shitting down on me again."

"That's how you see it?" Scott demanded. "You tried to kill them!"

"No, I lost control," Lance retorted. "You're gonna tell me that you had such great control over your powers? It was an accident."

"Right."

"Screw you." Lance shook his head. "But what came next, well, even you can't argue that."

"What?"

"He left," Lance said softly. "He just left me there. I was kicked out of school, my foster home. My friends abandoned me. I was outed as a mutant. I had no home, no money, no family, no friends, nowhere to go… right at that moment, Summers, I needed help like never before." He shook his head. "And Xavier turned his back on me and pretended he never saw me. You want to know why I accepted the offer from Mystique and Magneto? It's because if I hadn't, I would have been arrested and probably killed. Or handed over to someone like Weapon X, your choice."

Scott just sat there, speechless; Lance kept talking, eyes focused on a memory only he could see. "I did my part with the Brotherhood. We had it tough, but hell, we were used to that. And we proved ourselves, too… Magneto put trust in us, and we showed we actually had a shot at being worth something. Until the X-Men came along and ruined it." He looked down, brow furrowed. "Ruined his trust in us. Made him abandon us. Left us alone again. Not that you gave a damn, you just saw us as the enemy… but Xavier? Hell, man, he must have known what happened to us. Living alone in the Boarding House, trying to survive on what we could scrounge or steal. The world's most powerful telepath, he had to know. But he did nothing."

"He didn't know!" Scott protested. "He wouldn't have just left you there if he'd known…"

Lance waved one hand in disgust. "Oh, bullshit. A guy like Xavier, you think he doesn't keep tabs on his enemies? We were the enemy, and he would have been watching us. He was watching us. When I tried to join you guys, Summers, I looked in his eyes and I saw it. He knew. But he still sent me back there."

"He wouldn't do that!" Scott insisted.

"He did it," Lance retorted. "Hell, Summers, you know what the Boarding House is like. You really think Xavier doesn't?"

"Well, it's not like he's going to invite you all to join now," Scott said in an accusing voice. "I mean, we don't exactly have a great history."

"You're telling me," Lance agreed icily. "There was Todd, who got interrogated on his powers by Xavier and nearly got killed by Fuzzbutt before he ran for his life and never came back. There was Fred, who got a crush on Jean and had his ass kicked for it. Tabitha tried it at the Institute for maybe a month and left 'cause she hated it there. And Pietro and Wanda, well, they were always going to go with Magneto, weren't they?"

"Those weren't our fault," Scott argued. "Every time we gave you a chance, someone nearly got killed for it!"

"Yeah, usually us," Lance retorted. "And weren't you all forgiving? Damn it, Summers, every one of us gave the Institute a chance, and every one of us got burned for it. It wasn't you, it wasn't the students, it wasn't anyone except Xavier who made that final call, and we got left out in the cold because he didn't want us. Just like nobody else ever wanted us."

"That's how you see it?" Scott asked disbelievingly. "The Professor had some great conspiracy to keep you out?"

"How would you see it?" Lance demanded. "It was his call, and none of us got let in, even though we needed help more than half of the kids at the Institute. How I see it is that Magneto was the first person, ever, who acted like maybe I had a chance to be something decent. To make a difference. It was the same for all of us, and when Xavier had the chance to throw us a lifeline, he decided not to."

Scott was quiet for a moment, considering. Finally, he said, "So that's how you see the Institute? A training ground for assholes?"

"No," said Lance, "I don't. 'Cause most of the people there aren't assholes. I see the Institute as a palace, a nice big castle where Xavier can make the rules and call himself king. And every once in a while he lets some lowly peon of his choosing into the castle, and lets them live a life of security and comfort, and everyone in the castle gives themselves a big pat on the back for being so kind, and call Xavier the best king ever." He shook his head. "And meanwhile, outside the castle, it's getting cold. And everyone outside the castle is waiting for their turn to be chosen… but it's never going to come."

"The Professor is trying to create a sanctuary for mutants…" Scott began.

"Yeah, yeah," Lance cut him off. "A nice big sanctuary. Except that you can't fit everyone inside, and Xavier only lets people he likes inside. He isn't trying to change the world, he's just making a place to hide from it – and the rest of us, who can't hide, are fighting to stay alive. That's why I believe in Magneto, Summers. Because he knows that if we want to live, we have to change the world, not hide from it."

"The end doesn't justify the means," Scott said flatly. "The Professor is working every day to make a difference."

"If the end is death the means don't make much difference," Lance shot back. "Xavier can do his thing with politics and try to make a difference in the next fifty years. Meanwhile, outside his sanctuary, people are dying now."

"So you'd level a city for Magneto's beliefs?" Scott needled. "Kill a thousand people because he told you to?"

"I don't know," Lance said honestly. "But if it came down to it, if we were at war? Yeah, probably. I'd hate it, but if that's what we were up against, then yeah, I'd do it." Scott snorted; Lance met his eyes. "What about you? Come on, Summers, hypothetical situation – one mutant about to be killed by a mob of twenty people. Would you kill the mob to save the mutant?"

Scott blinked. "Well, I…"

"In fact," Lance went on, "let's make it better. Say the one mutant is Jean. Would you let her die, just because Xavier says it'd be the lesser of two evils? You'd let a mob beat her to death if Xavier asked?"

Scott sat there, unable to answer, and Lance smiled sadly. "That's the choice, Summers. Outside of Xavier's sanctuary, people have to make that choice. And when he left us out, he made us choose which side we were on. Turns out, we're on Magneto's side." He shook his head. "That's why I fight with Magneto, Summers. That's why I believe in him. It's because he wants to change the world so that nobody ever has to make that choice. It's because he gave us a chance that Xavier never gave us, even when he had the chance to. It's because it's what I think is right, and if my bed isn't as comfortable as yours, at least I can sleep in it at night."

Lance turned and lay down on the bed, his speech apparently over. Scott sat there on the floor, his mind racing, but no reply came; and the silence stretched on. Until finally, a noise came from the hallway.

"Lance? Yo, Lance, you here?"

Todd appeared, running down the hallway with Fred and Mystique close behind. Lance sat up and grinned.

"Looks like our luck's in, Summers," he said. "The cavalry's here."

Mystique looked in at the two of them and raised an eyebrow. "So it would seem," she agreed. "I suppose we'll give you a lift home while we're at it, Cyclops?"

Lance snorted, leaning against the bars. "Of course we will. That's what we do, remember?"

As Fred reached the door and wrenched it off its hinges, Lance turned his head to look sideways at Scott. Scott nodded.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I guess it is."

----

The Professor opened his eyes, letting the last remnants of Scott's memory wash over him before severing the link.

"That's how it happened," Scott asserted. "The rest, you know… they gave me a ride back to Bayville, I called here, you guys came and got me."

"And this is what's been bothering you," the Professor said gently. "What Avalanche said when you were together."

Scott nodded, not looking up. "I just… I never thought about it like that."

"How do you feel about it now that you have?"

The younger man looked up. "You don't know?"

The Professor smiled wistfully. "Scott, you gave me permission to view that memory. I have no intention of invading your mind outside of that."

"I know, I know, it's just…" Scott sighed. "Lance gave me a perspective I never saw before, you know? Like, I was seeing the world with one eye open this whole time, and then he comes along and shows me the other side."

"Do you believe what he's told you?" the Professor asked gently. "Did his arguments convince you?"

"No." Scott shook his head vehemently. "I know he's wrong about you, Professor. He makes you out to be some kind of villain, and I know you're not. I've… I've seen a side to you that I don't think he ever has, and I think he blames you for that. He just sees this as a life he could have had instead of the one he's got."

The Professor nodded. "One of the hardest things in this world," he said softly, "is to realise that we are so very similar to those we consider our enemies. Lance is very much like you, Scott, just a darker reflection of what you might have been if fate had gone another way. For you, it's a relief to see that your life has been less harsh, but from his perspective… I don't wonder that he feels the way he does."

Scott ran his hands through his hair. "It… it was easier before this, Professor. Yesterday, they were the bad guys and we were the good guys, and we were doing the right thing, and I could live with that. Now all of a sudden, I get this glimpse of how we look in someone else's eyes, and nothing's that simple any more. It was all… so much easier before this."

"It always is," the Professor said gently. "Once, Scott, I had a discussion with my closest friend about the very same thing, and I walked away with the same questions you have now. That was when Magneto and I went our separate ways, and all these years later I haven't learned the answers. All I can do is tell you that you're going to have to decide for yourself what is right, and act accordingly, because nobody else – not Magneto, not Lance, not even me – can tell you anything else."

Nodding, Scott got to his feet. "I know, Professor. I just… need some time to think about this. I'm not going anywhere, and I don't feel any different about what we're doing, but…" he smiled ruefully. "I just need to re-think my definition of the word 'enemy' before I can do anything else."

The Professor smiled in acknowledgement, and Scott turned to go. But then, at the doorway, he paused and glanced back.

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"If you could do it again…" Scott paused. "I mean, if you could go back to the first time we met each member of the Brotherhood… would you do it differently? Get them on our side then and there?"

For a moment, the Professor looked startled at the question. Then he said, "Of course, Scott."

"Really?"

He sighed. "Scott, there is one thing about me that you've always known, but that Lance has never realised. It's what you've just realised about Lance."

"What's that?"

"That I'm only human," the Professor said simply. "I'm neither perfect nor infallible. I have made mistakes, cascades of errors that I deeply regret, and if I could go back and change the things I've done wrong…" he shook his head. "…Scott, if it were within my power, so many things would be different. But I can't. I have to live with my actions and their consequences. And that, I'm afraid, is perhaps the most difficult thing of all."

For a long moment, Scott stood there, looking at him. Then he nodded. "Thanks, Professor."

As the door swung closed, the Professor turned in his chair to look out of the window, casting his mind back, back to a day when he'd seen a young man standing on a hillock, as beside him a jubilant Kitty Pryde gushed to her parents about her newfound gifts – and he had turned away from that young man. Back to a day when, if he could, he would have changed his actions had he known their consequences.

Back to a day when he had only seen the world with one eye open.

**-FIN-**


End file.
